Same gray eyes. Same narrow face. Even the small birthmark by his eyebrow sat in the exact same spot.
It looked like somebody had taken my son and made a second copy of him — the only real difference was the hair.
Everett’s was light. This boy’s was almost black. My hands started shaking.
“How is this possible?” The principal watched me carefully. “We’re waiting on his mother.
Once she gets here, I think a lot of this is going to make sense.” Before I could ask anything else, the office door swung open behind me.
I turned around. And the second I saw who was standing there, I screamed.
(I know you’re all very curious about the next part, so if you want to read more, please leave a “YES” comment below!)
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